what about him?
by joannejosephs
Summary: "At first it was terrifying what he could-and would-do to me. But then it stopped being fear, and more curiosity, and then wonder. It soon didn't matter that he was the kind of man who would kill me without hesitation-strangle me, drown me, put a bullet right between my eyes. It didn't matter that I was dead to the world. No. There was something about him. What about him?" Chrys
1. what about him? Playlist

These are the songs that I find best follow the plot I have planned. I'll explain why I put all of them on here after the story is over, but for now, it leaves you wondering and guessing at what will happen next.

Enjoy!

 _ **1.**_ _ **Believer**_ _ **\- Imagine Dragons**_

 _ **2.**_ _ **Isles of Flightless Birds**_ _ **\- twenty one pilots**_

 _ **3.**_ _ **Dollhouse**_ _ **\- Melanie Martinez**_

 _ **4.**_ _ **Goner**_ _ **\- twenty one pilots**_

 _ **5.**_ _ **Way Down We Go**_ _ **\- Kaleo**_

 _ **6.**_ _ **YOUTH**_ _ **\- Troye Sivan**_

 _ **7.**_ _ **La Vie En Rose**_ _ **\- Daniela Andrade**_

 _ **8.**_ _ **Closer**_ _ **\- The Chainsmokers (feat. Halsey)**_

 _ **9.**_ _ **Gorilla**_ _ **\- Bruno Mars**_

 _ **10\. Heavenly Creatures - Wolf Alice**_

 _ **11.**_ _ **Yesterday**_ _ **\- The Beatles**_

 _ **12.**_ _ **The Scientist**_ _ **\- Coldplay**_

 _ **13.**_ _ **hate u love u**_ _ **\- Olivia O'Brien**_


	2. It's Just Not Sitting Well

I traced my pen gently-methodically-over the pencil sketch of a chrysanthemum I drew the other day in my sketchpad. My intent had been for it to just be a sketch, I liked how sketchy things looked when you opened a sketchpad. Looking through a sketchpad full of sketches was much more interesting to me than looking through a portfolio of neatly inked, properly shaded finished pieces. By no means was I an expert when it came to art, I merely dabbled in it, but there was just something about sketches that felt so chaotically unfinished that made them so appealing to me.

I was majoring in music composition. I was probably too young to be a sophomore in college (is 17 to young? To be fair I was almost 18), but my parents had always insisted on me auditioning for practice at colleges and to submit my portfolio to get feedback, but a large number of colleges wrote back and wanted me to go to school there. I wasn't some kind of rich kid though, so I was devastated to find out I couldn't go to my dream college: Oberlin Conservatory in Ohio. Here I was, stuck at good old Gotham University, going to school five blocks away from the small house my mother and I occupied. My dad lived there too, but he wasn't home very often, he travelled a lot for work.

"Chrysanthemum," Mr. Jowe said.

"Sir," I replied to him, in a somewhat smart tone.

Mr. Jowe rolled his eyes and shook his head slightly. "What would be a standard progression leading into a Plagal Cadence?"

"Well, depends on the era, sir. Anything could be standard if you look at a different time period. If we're talking Medieval and Victorian, then there's a million different possibilities, but a common chord progression leading into the cadence itself would be something like I, V, possibly another I here, IV, I." I began writing out the chord progression next to the chrysanthemum, letting it step cautiously over the pen outline of the flower. Mr. Jowe nodded in my direction and continued teaching. He knew that I had more than an acceptable grasp on what we were talking about, and had talked about for the past few months for that matter, so he just let me do whatever during class. I appreciated that he did, mainly because I used a lot of the hour-and-a-half class periods either to do my calculus work or to sleep. Sometimes I would draw. That was rare.

That day happened to be one of those rare days where I drew during music theory. I didn't usually, just because I didn't like people seeing what I had in my sketchpad. Some of it was pretty depressing stuff, I won't lie. For me, a sketchpad was (brace yourself for this cliché I'm so sorry) like a diary to me. It held all my secrets and my ideas and my loves and my losses. It was a one-way path straight to my heart and soul that absolutely no one was allowed to go down.

Mr. Jowe's voice droned in the background and something about it bugged me more than it usually did that morning. I felt myself itching to get out of that classroom, not wanting to hear another word from his Charlie-Brown-Adult type voice for the rest of the year. I looked to the door at the front of the classroom, wondering if it would be worth it to just get up and leave. Would he be mad? Would he just let me? Would he tell me not to come back to class? My head raced for a moment before I finally let my gut take over me. I shoved my sketchpad into my backpack, put away my pencil and pulled the zipper quickly on it's track. I stood swiftly and made my way for the door. My eyes were glued on the door, that crimson door, that gateway to freedom, just a few steps away-

"Chrys? Where are you going?" Mr. Jowe asked me. He looked me over, and I tried to pick up the composure of a girl who just got devastating news. I let my eyebrows knit together in fake worry and sorrow. I squinted my eyes to make it look like I was fighting back tears. I took in a shaky breath before speaking, making my voice tremble a bit as I fumbled over the first few words.

"I-I- jusssst-" I sucked in my breath and pressed my hands to my eyes. "I got s-some really bad news from my mo-hom. I have to go." My fake sobs broke up my words. "I'm so-horry Mr. Jowe." He looked at me, his face frozen in shock for a moment. He nodded at me and I turned back towards the door, letting my shoulders shake a bit as I opened the door and left.

As I rounded the corner and got out of earshot of the music hall, I dropped the act and pulled my phone out of my back pocket. No notifications. After I started going to college, a lot of my friends stopped talking to me. Not because they hated me for it or anything, well probably in part because of that, but more because they didn't know when I was available. I had kind of stopped using social media, so as far as a lot of people were concerned, I was either indefinitely grounded or dead. I had a few friends I kept up with, but those friends I had known since elementary school, so it was only natural.

I texted Mackenzie, my longtime and perfect best friend.

 _hey mac, wanna go get some lunch? jowe's was not sitting well today. cafe at 12:30?_

 _Almost an instant response came back to me._

 _Wish I could girlie, but I've got an exam at 1 that I cannot afford to miss or fail :( Fornesten_

 _damn, ok. something after then? youll be out by 2 right?_

 _Yep, I can't wait to see you! Haven't seen you in ages_

 _mac its been a whole 48 hours. 48. hours. mac. two days._

 _Yeah, yeah. Whatever. I miss you sometimes! You'll have to spill about this mystery boy this time. I don't get why you refuse to tell me who he is. It's not like he's some axe murderer or anything. He's not an axe murderer, right?_

 _no, jesus mac, who do you take me for?_

 _Just checking!_

 _see you at 2 nerd, go pass your test._

I turned off my phone and managed to smile a bit to myself. Mackenzie was always so cheerful. She was actually perfect. I mean, sure she had her flaws, like being brutally honest all the time and blatantly hating people who were rude, but other than that she was perfect. I had always envied her for how small she was. At 5'2" and a C cup boob, every guy loved her. I'm sure her body was even more beautiful outside of her clothes. Her dark blonde hair fell perfectly over her narrow shoulders with a slight curl at the ends. Her brown eyes always smiled. Hell, she even texted with perfect grammar. But that was just Mac. I loved her. She was one of the few friends I had left I didn't meet until middle school. The other two I'd known practically since birth-the twins, London and Paris. Yes, their parents were the ones who named their kids after cities, but it perfectly fit both of them. They were both beautifully tall with spindly and graceful legs, just enough curve to comfortably hold, long pin-straight bleach blonde hair and wonderfully green eyes. I envied them too, but to a lesser extent because I knew that their beauty was a god-given thing. Neither of their parents were strikingly attractive like them, so it was a miracle that they were as beautiful as they were. Mackenzie on the other hand was just such a natural type of beautiful it made my heart ache.

I hadn't seen either of the twins recently though. They were away visiting family for something, what I didn't know, but I assumed that it was important because they had stopped posting things on any and all forms of social media. It had to be important if London wasn't documenting every second of what they did and Paris wasn't taking pictures of every meal they ate and every drink they drank.

I pushed the front door of the music building open with my back and shivered as the harsh winter wind began to nip away at my skin. My eyes began to water and I had to pull my scarf up over my nose to keep myself from freezing. Gotham was weird. The weather was so finicky, you never knew what it would be so you always dressed for anything and brought layers with you everywhere.

I approached the bus stop and crossed my arms firmly, trying my best (and failing) to conserve body heat. As much as I loved the cold I couldn't seem to keep myself warm, no matter what I did. I once went through three packets of those hand warmers in a day when I went out to dinner with Mac. Even with twenty blankets on my bed during the winter, I could never seem to get warm. Contrarily, during summer, no matter how little I wore, I could never seem to stay cool. It was weird, to stay the least.

The bus pulled up and I got on, the bus packed to the brim. I only had to go a few blocks, but I didn't want to walk it. I sat down in a seat next to a woman who had a toddler sat on her lap. She bounced the little boy up and down on her knee and the boy was bursting with laughter. A smile was spread wide across his face and I smiled to myself. I wished I could go back to being that young again, everyone caring for me, not a care in the world, being helpless but so reckless at the same time.

"He's adorable," I said to the woman. She turned to me and smiled brightly. I could see the signs of a tired mother over her face-the dark circles under her eyes, the strain in her smile. I could also see that she really loved her kid.

"Thank you! Bentley's a handful, but he's also a delight to have." The little boy looked at me with big blue eyes and a blank face. "Say 'hi' Bentley!" She grabbed the toddler's hand and had him wave to me, partially against his will, but the boy eventually melted into a smile and a bubbly laugh came from him, making me smile even more. My heart skipped a beat when I realized that it was at this point a lot of people were starting to get serious with their relationships. Once you were used to college, you usually found someone, dated them, loved them and even talked about taking many of the next steps together. I guess I didn't think about a boyfriend because I felt so young compared to everyone else. By their senior year, everyone else was 19 or 20 and reasonably falling in love. I was 17. I couldn't say I felt anything towards any of my classmates. I could also feel in the pit of my stomach that no one had asked me to be their girlfriend because of the fact that I was a bit intimidating. Not that I looked it, I actually had a bit of a baby face (until I put makeup on), but it was more because I was so self-kept and I didn't really talk to people outside of school, and I guess that turned people off to me? I never understood it, and I suppose it wasn't my place to understand.

The little boy, Bentley, reached his hand out to my hair and pulled at one of my dark brown curls. He giggled with utter glee when it bounced back up to its original position from where he pulled it. I smiled a bit, still preoccupied with my thoughts. _Do I want kids?_ I questioned. _I mean, they seem pleasant enough, and who wouldn't love having a living part of you with you all the time? Kids are adorable, but am I fit to be a mother?_ I thought about asking the woman what it was like having a kid, but decided against it as I realized that it was probably too much to ask someone I just met on a bus.

"Well it was nice meeting you, Bentley seems to like you!" the woman said standing. I hadn't even felt the bus stop, but I assumed it was her stop. "Say 'bye-bye' Bentley!" The boy clenched his fist open and shut and said a very jumbled version of "bye-bye", and I waved back to him, letting a smile creep onto my face. As the mother got off the bus, I scooted over into the woman's seat and looked outside the window. I was just one stop away from where I had to get off and I found myself fidgeting, excited to get off the bus and change into comfortable clothes and to go out to a late lunch with Mac. My phone vibrated in my pocket.

 _Hey Chrys, I was wondering if you wanted to hang out this afternoon. We haven't just hung out in a while and I've been wanting to show you a new show. My house tonight?_

Ian. Ian. That mystery boy Mac always hounded me about. We'd been dating for just a few months, but I found myself falling in love with him more and more every second. Of course I hadn't told him yet. There was something about those three little words I couldn't quite wrap my mind around to say to somebody who wasn't family. They seemed so innocent, mere verbal claims to what we both felt, but somehow in saying it it felt so permanent. I was okay with it, and he was okay with it, so it made it okay. I bit my lip, thinking hard about whether or not I wanted to go over to his house. I'd have to tell my mom, but I could always just have him pick me up... My mom liked Ian, and she trusted both of us. I didn't think it would be a problem...

 _i'll have to ask my mom bb. i'm sure she'll be fine with it. i'll be get back you. i'm going out to lunch with mac so i'll text you after ok?_

 _Of course. Have fun with Mac. ;) Can't wait to see you tonight._

 _my mom hasn't said yes yet?_

 _She will, I'm sure of it._

 _ok 3 see you tonight then._

I put my phone back in my pocket and dismounted the bus at my stop, immediately startled by the chill of the harsh wind outside. I pulled my coat tighter around myself and crossed my arms, my hands tucked snugly in my armpits. I speed-walked down the sidewalk half a block down to the house I shared with my mom. She worked a normal 9-5 shift as a secretary at a company I could never remember the name of, so she wasn't home and my dad happened to be out of town.

I pulled my house key out of my jacket pocket as I raced up the stairs to our porch. Fumbling to put the keys in the lock, I could hear our two dogs, Steve and Cody barking from behind the door.

"I know, momma's home! I know, I know!" The dogs only scratched anxiously at the door.

The lock opened with a satisfying click and I rushed in the house before the dogs could escape to the outside world. I could never wrangle them back into the house once they were outside.

"Hi babies!" I said excitedly, kneeling down to pet them both and shower them in love as they drenched me in their wet, sloppy kisses. "How are you? Did you miss me?" Cody barked enthusiastically, and I smiled, patting her head. "Yes, yes you did! Yes you did, didn't you girl?" Steve, upset with the lack of attention, managed to shove his muzzle underneath my free hand (which rested on my leg), demanding head pats and belly rubs equal to the ones Cody was getting.

"Okay, Steve, ok! I see you!" He licked my hand. Standing from where I was, I walked into the kitchen, setting my backpack down on one of the bar stools we had at the counter facing the living room. I contemplated doing my homework and writing my essay for english. I also contemplated vegging out on the couch for a few hours until I had to meet Mac so I could catch up on some TV shows. Before making my decision, I pulled my phone from its spot in my back pocket.

I instinctively texted my mother as I walked toward my room in the back of the house.

 _hey mom, ian asked if i wanted to hang out later tonight. might spend the night, might not. i'll text you when i figure it out. is that ok?_

I began to change into different clothes so I didn't look like a total bum when I met Mac. I chose a pair of turquoise jeans with holes in both knees and a plain white t-shirt with a small pocket on the left boob from my closet and pulled off my leggings. My phone vibrated on my bed and I ignored it until I had fought my jeans over my butt and buttoned the button. I slid my shirt on over my head as I reached for my phone.

 _Sure honey! That would b gr8. If u do decide to come home, make sure ur home by midnight. Otherwise have fun! Not too much tho._

My mom thought she was cool, texting with "text lingo," as she called it. I smiled to myself.


	3. Ben and Jerry's

I sat waiting at the cafe for Mac, sitting with a menu in my hands and pretending to read it even though I knew what I wanted. Mac and I frequented the place, and usually we didn't even get menus. Every time the door would ring I would look up, expecting Mac, but it seemed to never be her. My phone buzzed softly on the table.

 _Sorry I'm running late! The test was crazy long. Be there in a few._

I smiled to myself. _it's all good, no worries. i got our usual table. i'll go ahead and order._

 _Thanks Chrys, you're the best! 3_

I tried to flag down a waitress, hoping to get her attention, but she walked right past me. I slumped down, aggravated, in my chair and tried to flag her down again as she passed by, and she held up a single finger. At least she acknowledged me. I fiddled with my phone, doing nothing in particular. The waitress came up to me, pulling her pen out of her waistband thing and standing with an air of attitude.

"What can I get for you?"

"Hey, um, I'll have a large cappuccino with two sugars, a, uh, slice of coffee cake and a large cold brew with, uh, regular sugar, cream and caramel swirl." The woman wrote down the order and looked up at me with an exasperated breath

.

"Anything else for you?" She seemed really annoyed with me, obviously for ordering for more than one person and hoarding a table all by my lonesome.

"No, no that's good." I said softly, handing her my menu. She walked away without another word. Almost instantly, Mac walked through the door, flustered with wind blown hair and pink cheeks from the cold outside. She wore a knee-length skirt with black flannel leggings underneath and a navy and white striped sweater under her normal winter coat. She pulled her hat off her head and walked over to me. Rising to meet her, I wrapped my arms around her tightly.

"Hey, Chrys! How've you been?" Mac said as she pulled away from me.

"Mac, you saw me two days ago." I chucked. Mac sat down and shed her coat, draping it over the chair back.

"Yes, and a lot can happen in two days, dummy. It's long enough for me to nearly die over not knowing who this mystery boy is. Speaking of, who is it? Tell me everything. How old is he, where does he go to school, where does he work, what does he want to do, does he have any siblings, is he a mass murderer, you know the rundown by now." I rolled my eyes at her, a smile tugging at the corner of my lips.

"Mmm, I don't know if I can reveal all this information for you, you know, considering he's working for the CIA and if I reveal his information he'll be compromised." I nearly broke out laughing before I could finish my sentence.

"Oh, stop that! Come on tell me about him!" Mac laughed. The same rude waitress came over to the table and set down my cappuccino and Mac's cold brew. I went to ask her for silverware for the coffee cake, but she turned around before I could even raise a finger at her. I pressed my lips together in a thin line. Mac reached across the table and put her hand over mine.

"Don't worry about it. You can just give her shit tip and a nice little note on the receipt." She squeezed my hand a bit and smiled. "So. Spill."

"Ugh, fine." I rolled my eyes at her. "His name is Ian, and he doesn't work for the CIA. First lie, sorry not sorry." Mac faked disappointment. "But, he does have currently have an internship with Wayne Enterprises, though he doesn't want to work in the corporate world. He wants to open up his own place, he was thinking a restaurant, maybe a breakfast place, he doesn't know yet. But he's at culinary school right now. You know, the technical institute through GU?" Mac nodded, sitting o the edge of her seat like she was being given new air to breathe with every word I said. "We actually met at a party one of his friends threw."

Mac stifled a laugh as she stirred her cold brew. How she could drink iced coffee on a 12 degree winter day was beyond me."Was that the one where Finely downed ten shots of Fireball and then promptly proceeded to vomit on the dog?"

"Yeah." My eyes darted down towards the table. My right hand lay over my coffee cup, almost guarding it. "You... You went home with Chandler-" Mac's track star boyfriend, "-and I wasn't necessarily sober enough to drive myself home safely, so Ian texted my mom and told him that I was going to be spending the night with him since I couldn't drive myself home and wasn't sober enough to give him directions to my house." Mac's eyes widened a little and she leaned forward even further in her seat.

"You guys didn't-"

"No! Jesus, Mac, I'm not that eager. I'm only 17, technically not even legal." There was something about any sort of... sexual, I guess is the best way to say it, sexual encounters that really made me nervous. It may have been that there was some sort of, suppressed fear of not being good enough for who I'm with, or just not being able to do anything right. Either way, it made me turn up my nose to any kind of sexual relationships.

Mac slumped back in her seat, taking her coffee in one hand and gently stirring it with a straw in the other. "Oh come on, you can't just say that he took you back to his house and nothing happened while you two were alone there and you were drunk and probably really excited about being with some hot guy all night. That'd just be a lie."

"I never said we were alone." Heat rose into my cheeks. "And I wouldn't necessarily call him hot. It's more like, strikingly beautiful. He's so adorable and awkward, and he plays a bit of piano, and he's so strong in his faith-" I was religious at the time. Not devout by any means, but I would've liked to say my relationship with God was a strong one. "-and I just, I don't know. There's something that just kind of drew me to him. I'm just absolutely enamored by him, he's just so... so-"

"Je ne sais quoi?"

"No, no there's a word for it..." Mackenzie and I sat in silence for a moment as I racked my brain for the word I was looking for to perfectly portray the idea that was Ian to me. "Enrapturing. That's it."

"Huh," Mac leaned back and took a sip of her coffee. "He sounds like he's perfect for you." She smiled a bit. "That still doesn't serve as answer for whether or not anything happened that night," she said slyly, raising her eyebrow at me.

I took my coffee cup away from my lips and set it down on the table, keeping my hand on it to stay warm. "Lord, you should go into journaling with how persistent you are." Mac smiled gently. "I mean, nothing much happened. Neither of us were really tired, per say, and I wanted to watch something, so he helped me up the stairs to his room. He laid me down on his bed, pulled his white duvet over me and grabbed his computer from his desk. We ended up watching The Office until 2 am and cuddling all night long."

"That's precious."

"It was, until I woke up at around 9:30 the next morning with a violent urge to vomit." I cringed at the memory, remembering fondly how I had bolted from the bed, hand over my mouth, desperately searching for a bathroom. "He held my hair back though." I added. I looked up at Mac. Her eyes were tired and she wouldn't stop stirring her coffee, even though she wasn't adding anything else to it.

"Are you alright, Mackenzie?"

She feigned a smile. "Yeah, yeah." The waitress from before approached the table. "I'm good."

Our coffee cake was set unceremoniously on the table, the plate clanking against the wood. I could tell it was cold and had been sitting in the kitchen for a while, probably while our waitress was having a smoke break considering she wreaked of cigarettes. "Here's your coffee cake. Anything else?"

"Yeah, a couple forks and a waitress with a better attitude would be great." Mackenzie snapped. I looked at her, startled by the outburst.

The waitress leaned onto the table. Her eyebrows were creased in annoyance. The smell of cigarette wafted towards me and made me gag. I nearly puked in my mouth. "Listen here sweetheart. You don't have to give me all that sass. I could kick you out of here no problem."

Mac glanced quickly at the girl's name tag. "Well, Jessica, I would love to see you do it. We've been coming here and sitting at this table for the past 5 years. I doubt your manager would let you throw us out like you intend to." Mac grabbed the plate with the coffee cake and thrust it at the waitress, Jessica. "Now, I would like a heated piece of coffee cake please. You're already down to a 10% tip. And when you're on your next smoke break, go to the supermarket down the street and buy yourself a new attitude, sass free. It can't be that expensive." Mac's hand held her coffee glass with a white knuckled grip. I reached my hand cautiously across the table. When my fingers brushed against Mackenzie's fingers, she snapped her attention to me. There was something in her eyes that was different, I just couldn't put my finger on it.

"Hey, Mac, it's not a big deal. It's ok." Mac looked at me with somewhat angered eyes before untensing her entire body. The waitress looked Mac over and then left with our coffee cake for the kitchen. "Mac, are you alright? What's going on?"

Mackenzie kept her gaze on the table. "I'm fine."

"Bullshit. Look me in the eyes right now and tell me what's wrong with my best friend." I felt a lump form in my throat as dread consumed me. _What if Mac really wasn't alright?_

Mac looked at me with cold eyes. "I'm. Fine. Now drop it." She immediately averted her attention back to the table. I reached out and squeezed her hand tightly in mine.

"Mackenzie, you can tell me anything, you understand that right?" Mac nodded. "Ok, so then please tell me. I want to be able to help in any way I can, even if that is going out and buying a gallon of cookies and cream ice cream with the last $6.32 of my paycheck."

Mac sniffled a bit before looking up at me again with tear filled eyes. "I... I think my parents are getting divorced." My face went blank. If anybody knew Mackenzie's parents, the Hecklers, they would know they are the most happy couple ever. At least I thought so. So did everyone else, and now Mackenzie is sat here, right in front of me, telling me her parents are getting a divorce.

"Why?" It was all I could really think or say. Mackenzie avoided eye contact with me.

"Mackenzie, you can't think it's because of you. You're the most perfect daughter anyone could ever ask for."

"I understand that, Chrys, but, it's just that-" she broke off. She was trying really hard to keep it together. "I don't know what's going to happen or where I'm going to go or if they're really getting divorced or if I'm just overreacting or-"

"MacMacMacMacMac. Listen to me. Regardless of whether or not your parents get divorced, they both still love you. I still love you. The twins still love you. We'll all be here for you, you know that, right?" Mackenzie nodded, looking up at me. I smiled slightly up at her. Our waitress came over again and I almost waved her off if she hadn't come over with two slices of coffee cake.

"Sorry for before or whatever. Your order is on the house." She set down the plates, nicely, and gave us two sets of silverware wrapped in paper napkins.

"Thank you," Mackenzie said quietly. "I'm sorry too. I acted really inappropriately."

"It's all good." She turned quickly and walked away before we could continue to talk to her. Her manager must've sent her over with that extra plate.

"Mac, you can't think even for a second that what's going on between your parents has anything to do with you. You're wonderful. Promise you won't think about it too much? If you do, the twins and I will have to intervene."

"Well, to be fair, we were going to intervene first, before I knew about my parents." Mac smiled at my raised eye brow. "You're birthday is coming up and you're turning 18. We thought we'd go out when the twins got back home."

"You don't need to, Mackenzie. I don't really want anything for my birthday except to hang out with you guys and Ian. Maybe go see a movie." I shrugged. I thought for a moment about the fact that I was going to be a legal adult soon. I didn't have to be around my dad's diminishing relationship with my mom. I could just move in with Ian... "Even just hanging out at home with you guys would be a great 18th birthday." I saw something in Mackenzie's eyes. I hoped that she wouldn't try and do anything crazy, but I knew that once she had made up her mind, there was nothing to change it back.

"Whatever you say, birthday girl."

"It's not for a week, Mac!" Our waitress was nearing us and I stopped myself from continuing my conversation with Mac.

"Your bill is on the house. You can leave whenever you want." She smiled at us, though it was a forced smile. Mackenzie kept her head down and muttered her thanks, taking the last sip of her iced coffee.

"Thank you-" I leaned forward to get a glance at her name tag. "Jessica." Her lips pressed together in a thin line and she turned around, leaving us to finish up our coffee cake.

"Mac," I said. "I'm going to be at Ian's tonight, but if you need anything at all, please call me. Ian and I would be more than happy to hang out with you. You can always come over and watch Family Guy with us at 2 am." Mackenzie smiled at me slightly, finally making eye contact with me.

"Thank you," Her voice was almost a whisper. I needed to let Mackenzie go through with what she had planned for my birthday. It was things like that that were keeping her together.

It was 7:43 and I was pulling up to Ian's house, later than I had expected to be, but oh well. I let out the dogs before I left and made sure all my school stuff was away and ready for my classes the next day. There was a subway exit just two blocks from where Ian lived, so I didn't have to suffer through the New York cold for too long. Hiking my backpack up over my shoulder, I began to walk.

I was thankful for somebody like Ian to have come into my life. There was something surreal about what was going on between my parents, and Ian just made it go away. Whenever I was with him, everything melted, disappeared into oblivion, and I couldn't be happier about it. There was something about the way Ian would hold me as we lay on the couch watching HGTV for 5 hours straight that made me feel warm, safe. Maybe it was that he stood at a kind of jarring 6'3". He was so much taller than me it would only make sense for him to make me feel safe, right? I couldn't place my finger on it. Ian was just something special. He was a gift, and I thanked God every day for the fact that he loved me like I loved him.

When I approached the door to Ian's house, I knocked gently on the door. I thought my knock would have been to quiet, but in no time at all, Ian stood in front of me with the biggest smile on his face.

"God, Chrys, scare me much? You said you'd be over by 7 at the latest. I was worried sick." Ian pulled me into an enveloping hug and I melted into him.

"I know, I'm sorry, Ian. I'm sorry. I had to feed the dogs and get my stuff ready for tomorrow. I have a 10 am class tomorrow that I can't afford to miss, sadly." I stood on my tiptoes and kissed his cheek before walking into his house. I wasn't short, no, definitely not. I was 5'8", but he was 6'3", so there was nothing I could do about that.

"I've got Ben and Jerry's." Ian said as he walked to the kitchen.

I picked up a blanket that lay across the back of his couch. "Peanut butter cup?" He nodded, closing the freezer. "You know me so well."

Ian met me at the couch and laid down, leaving room for me to lay across him. It was difficult for me to believe that I wasn't crushing him, but he insisted that it didn't hurt him. Laying across him, I pulled the blanket over us and snuggled close to him. I held the pint tub of ice cream on my chest. Ian handed me a spoon as he turned on the TV on.

"I thought maybe we'd marathon Harry Potter instead of watching 10 episodes of Love It or List It for a change." Ian scooped a spoonful of ice cream from the tub. I nodded, unable to speak with ice cream in my mouth. He pressed play on the remote and the beginning of Hedwig's Theme played, quiet but sure, growing into prominence as the movie started. I turned my head a bit and saw Ian intently watching the movie, occasionally getting more ice cream. I was sure to steer him away from the bits of peanut butter cups-those were mine, and he knew it. I leaned back onto Ian's chest. His heart beat was steady and his breathing was constant. I closed my eyes. It was too early to sleep, but I found myself fading into sleep as Dumbledore pulled the lights from the street lamps with his deluminator.


End file.
